


Lily the Kid

by ieatgrassalot



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic, Friends to Lovers, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, Hanzo Shimada has Prosthetic Legs, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Language Barrier, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:06:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23538832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ieatgrassalot/pseuds/ieatgrassalot
Summary: “Did you hear that?” He asks, wanting to make sure his ears aren't just ringing from the fight.McCree nods, still silent.A few more seconds of silence pass before another cry finds its way to them, to which they both stiffen in alarm. Definitely not their ears ringing.“Hol-y shit.” McCree shoots up from his crouched position before his left arm latches to a piece of rubble, flinging it behind him, barely missing Hanzo. For a second Hanzo wants to jab at him for the near-miss, before he realizes what they’re hearing.A child. Specifically, a child crying.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 56
Kudos: 195





	1. Inside the Rubble

The mission was going horribly. What was expected to be a quick mission, take out a few baddies quietly and retreat, had quickly fallen apart - and Hanzo can't find a better descriptive word than “bloodbath”. Most of the operatives were okay, and the gang that they came out to attack were retreating, but no one foresaw the number of civilians that would be caught in the crossfire. What used to be quaint little houses with little picket fences was wiped down, crumbled into a mess by explosives set by the gang they’d come out to attack. The team had expected almost no one to be living there, seeing as a gang set up camp in the same area, but little did they know they’d burrowed themselves into a quiet neighborhood. No one here deserved to die, and there’s no doubt this was an attack to make the newly formed Overwatch gain some bad press. Hopefully, they can keep this under wraps

The sounds of gunfire had finally ceased, the gang having retreated in it's dwindling numbers, and no one on the team having the strength to pursue them. Most likely they’d get scattered and scooped up by the local policemen.

Still, this battle feels like a far cry from victory.

The few people they’d sent out into the field could barely keep themselves upright, exhausted emotionally and physically, and Hanzo wasn’t doing any better. They only had Angela for a healer, and she was much more focused on sweeping the rubble for anyone who survived the attacks than healing the team. Not that any of the others blamed her. Hanzo was battered and bruised, and every part of him ached, but he’d survive. Hanzo sweeps across the rubble for his teammates, taking a headcount, before he lands on a hunched over a figure, it's hat covered in dust and red serape bunched up in a crouched position.

Hanzo's eyebrows almost shoot to his hairline, before he schools his expression and makes his way towards the figure. He could’ve sworn they were all still upright the last time he checked, so the sudden slumped figure sends a jolt of fear through his chest. Once he leaps over the rubble, over the once pristine picket fence, he finally sees McCree’s face, a focused look etched into his features.

A breath of relief leaves him. “McCree! Are you alright?” He asks, putting a hand on his shoulder. McCree doesn't respond, still looking into the rubble of the house in front of him. Hanzo's brow furrows, worried at the silence.

“McCree?” He asks again, lightly shaking his shoulder. McCree’s hand shoots up, stilling Hanzo's hand on his shoulder with a hiss. Hanzo blinks, removing his hand from McCree’s shoulder. “Are you injured?”

The other man’s head shakes but turns to Hanzo. “M’ fine, but…”

The archer frowns again at McCree’s silence. “Evac is coming. We have to go-”

McCree puts a hand up, motioning for silence. Hanzo would be offended and he opens his mouth to give a retort, until McCree looks at him, looking more serious than Hanzo’s ever seen him. “Sh!” He says, putting a finger to his lips before looking back to the house. Hanzo's mouth snaps shut, eyes scanning the rubble in the same area.

“I think I hear somethin’.” the cowboy explains, eyes squinting.

Hanzo gives a quick nod. “Dangerous?”

McCree’s head shakes again, ending the conversation. Hanzo strains his ears in an attempt to hear whatever McCree is hearing - he’s always thought the man to be somewhat of a fool, but he can admit McCree’s instinct is impressive and has saved them several times. For a few seconds, all he hears is the dead silence of an empty town, the slight breeze in the air, and his own heartbeat; before finally a tiny, barely audible wail makes its way to his ears. His eyebrows snap up, and he looks down at McCree.

“Did you hear that?” He asks, wanting to make sure his ears aren't just ringing from the fight.

McCree nods, still silent.

A few more seconds of silence pass before another cry finds its way to them, to which they both stiffen in alarm. Definitely, not their ears ringing.

“Hol-y shit.” McCree shoots up from his crouched position before his left arm latches to a piece of rubble, flinging it behind him, barely missing Hanzo. For a second Hanzo wants to jab at him for the near-miss, before he realizes what they’re hearing.

A child. Specifically, a child crying.

Hanzo rushes forward, joining in McCree’s digging alongside the man, surprised he recognized what the sound was after him.

“Careful,” Hanzo says, “we cannot dislodge anything that could fall.”

McCree’s arms slow slightly, realizing why in his rush to unearth the survivor. “Got it.”

The progress is slow, despite the two of them, and Hanzo can see the tenseness of McCree’s shoulders rise with every piece of rubble they dislodge from the pile. The wailing grows more infrequent, but louder - so they’re getting closer, but whoever it is is getting worse. Hanzo can't deny that there’s a sheen of sweat on his brow from the thought. Hanzo is still listening intently, following every noise to see if any of them come from a place of pain. Most of it is just fear, which isn’t great, but that also means the child isn't hurt. Every piece of rubble they remove could end up dislodging something else, so they’re both careful of what they remove.

Finally, they start to uncover what seems to be a small structure - maybe what used to be a closet before it was repurposed to an impromptu bomb shelter - and McCree stands up, motioning Hanzo to stand with him. A particularly large slab of concrete is resting on the door of the closet, which is creaking under the weight. McCree knocks on the side of the closet lightly.

“Were gonna get you out here in a sec’, buddy, just hold tight,” McCree assures the child, before turning to look at Hanzo. He grabs the concrete on one end before nodding his head to the other side. “Hanzo, lift with me.”

Hanzo rushes to the other side, hooking his fingers on the underside of the slab, before looking back to McCree. “On your mark.”

“A’right. On one, okay?”

Hanzo nods.

“A’right, three…” Hanzo doesn't know if he’s ever seen McCree this panicked before.

“Two…” McCree’s arms tense, preparing for the full weight of the slab. Hanzo does the same, crouching so he can lift with his legs.

“One!” And on his mark, both men lift with a grunt, barely able to hold up the piece, even with the two of them. They both shuffle to the side, before dropping the concrete with a loud thud. It kicks up a cloud of dust, causing Hanzo to blink through it. McCree coughs into his fist before rushing to the tipped-over closet, running his hands along the front to find a handle.

Hanzo stops him. “McCree, this is the back of the cabinet. We have to flip it over.”

McCree looks down to the back of the cabinet, recognition flashing in his eyes before he pulls back to the side of the cabinet. He shoves his fingers under in a rush, pulling it over with all of his might. Hanzo quickly stoops to help him, assisting McCree in flipping it. While they tip it, they hear a shuffling inside, and a heavy thump when they finally flip it all the way over. The wailing has stopped, which sends a bolt of fear down both of their spines. McCree's hands quickly roam over the closet, finding a small decorative handle on the french doors and pulling at it, and swings the first door open.

At Hanzo’s angle, he’s the first to get a look inside, and the small figure that his eyes land on makes his heart squeeze. It's a young girl, dressed in brightly colored clothes and two short pigtails, around six years old. She’s unconscious, a fine layer of dust covering her, save for the tear tracks running down her face. Hanzo quickly scans her for injuries and finding none lets Hanzo release a little sigh of relief. McCree opens the other door and Hanzo can see when he first lays eyes on the girl, as his brows shoot to his hairline before furrowing down in concern. His arms dive into the closet, moving to scoop out the girl.

“Careful,” Hanzo says, putting his hand on McCree's arm. “She’s not bleeding, but she could’ve broken something.” McCree nods in understanding, before gingerly putting his robotic hand on her upper back, and his other hand under her knees. Hanzo backs up as McCree lifts, bringing the child up to cradle her against his chest.

“Okay,” McCree says to no one, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a huff. “Okay.”

-

The girl still hasn’t woken up by the time evacuation arrives, and Angela quickly takes her from McCree to check her over, before setting about to heal her. McCree stays close to her side, looking over her shoulder at the girl while Angela works. She attempts to bat McCree away more than a few times but gives up after the third attempt. McCree isn’t moving an inch, and Hanzo can understand his concern. The evac plane is just a couple lines of chairs along the sides leading to the pilot's chamber, so Angela doesn't have much space to work as it is. Hanzo stands to put his hand on McCree’s shoulder. McCree looks up at him, worry on his face

“McCree, wouldn’t you agree that giving Angela more space would allow her to help more easily?” He says softly, gesturing to Angela. McCree’s eyes flick back to them, worrying the edge of his hat with his fingers.

“S’pose so.” He replies, still not moving.

Hanzo lets a small smile slip. “Come. Angela has her now. We have to work on our report.”

McCree nods, reluctantly stepping back away from them. “Yeah,” he responds, finally turning away from them. “Okay.”

Hanzo lets go of his arm, returning to his seat on the plane. McCree sits beside him, before leaning back with a sigh. He pulls out a small tablet from under his seat, flicking to open a new report file. McCree does the same. The plane returns to a solemn silence, with everyone on the plane working on their reports. Some to avoid thinking about the young girl passed out on the floor, and others in an attempt to avoid talking, knowing they’ll break down if they start to speak.

Civilian casualties were always hard on them. Especially when they find a survivor, knowing they’ll have to live alone for the rest of their lives. And they’d only found the one.

“Think she’ll be okay?” McCree asks, breaking the silence with a whisper. Hanzo looks up from his tablet, finding McCree looking at him from the corner of his eye. Hanzo takes a breath.

“Yes.”

-

After a couple of hours on the plane, the tension in the air starts to ease with the beginnings of conversations finally easing the sting of a mission gone wrong. Angela has made sure the girl is stable, though still unconscious.

“She’ll be fine,” she’d said, “just exhaustion. She’s a quick-thinking kid, to have found shelter like that.”

McCree became noticeably less tense at the news, eventually slipping into a nap. Hanzo couldn’t sleep, much less with the cowboys’ soft snoring right next to his ear, so he resigns himself to reading through his reports for any errors. McCree sleeping next to him draws his focus from his tablet, almost making him wake the other man up before he catches the girl sleeping on the floor out of the corner of his eye. She’s resting her head on a make-shift pillow of McCree’s serape, a bright contrast to the steel grey of the floor. That reminds him.

Hanzo had never seen McCree in that much of a panic before. Not even after a nightmare - which Hanzo had only seen the aftermath of, but that was enough - and the gentle way McCree had cradled her suggested experience. Hanzo normally wouldn’t be surprised about something like that; but between being in the deadlock gang, being in Blackwatch, and having to go undercover between then and now, it begs the question - when had McCree had time to gain experience dealing with children? Much less long enough to warrant such a panicked response after seeing another one?

Hanzo shakes his head, reclining back into his seat. Best not to ask those questions now. There’s no time to focus on it, really, because when they get back to base, this girl will probably be given up to the foster-care system and everything will return to normal. Hanzo will still wake up at approximately 6 a.m., train until he gets a mission, and if not, train until he collapses onto a couch with his sake gourd in his hand and McCree by his side, talking away the evening.

He’s glad they became friends, although it was odd at first. McCree wasn’t someone Hanzo would normally find kinship with, but his personality is one that drew Hanzo in. “Warm”, Hanzo decides, would be the best word to describe it. “Bright” is a close second, but he’s seen his friend devastated enough to know that’s not always true. Maybe McCree will tell him about what makes him good with kids one day, but maybe not, and Hanzo is okay with that. Though Hanzo secretly wishes he’ll reveal his secrets - the archer has no idea how to handle children. He hadn’t gotten the same natural talent his brother did.

Speak of the devil, Hanzo’s communicator pings, and he pulls it out of his pocket to see the message.

From - Genji Shimada: are you on ur way back?

To - Genji Shimada: Yes.

From - Genji Shimada: how did it go?

Hanzo's fingers hover over the keys and he subtly bites his lip, hesitating to respond.

From - Genji Shimada: nvm just got ur report

From - Genji Shimada: how’s mccree?

Hanzo's eyes flick over to his teammate, scanning his form for injury. He and his brother had become good friends in Blackwatch, which Hanzo is eternally grateful for.

To - Genji Shimada: Fine. We are both uninjured. He’s currently asleep.

From - Genji Shimada: ah, that explains why he wasn’t responding

Hanzo hums at his response before looking at McCree again, noticing his snoring has stopped short as he shifts in his sleep. It’s odd to see the man without his serape, and to Hanzo, it makes the man's shoulders feel bare. Another ping from his communicator draws his focus away.

From - Genji Shimada: just finished reading your report

From - Genji Shimada: how’s the little one??

Hanzo's eyes flick to the girl resting on the aforementioned serape, before flicking back to his communicator to type out a response.

To - Genji Shimada: She is fine. She is asleep as well.

From - Genji Shimada: pics???

Hanzo points his camera to the girl lying on the floor, snapping a picture before sending it to his brother.

From - Genji Shimada: aww, what a cutie! (＾▽＾) make sure she gets back safe, I want to show her embarrassing photos of Jesse b4 she leaves

Hanzo huffs out a laugh, smiling at the message. Hanzo is sure Genji has an archive of them, after all, Hanzo had seen quite a few when he first joined the new Overwatch. McCree’s expression of utter betrayal, combined with a picture of him with his serape wrapped around his head while he was hanging from a rope trap, was one of the first things to make him laugh.

To - Genji Shimada: Don’t torture him too much. A man must retain at least some of his pride.

From - Genji Shimada: aw cmon hanzo, you’re no fun

To - Genji Shimada: I said some of his pride, not all of it.

From - Genji Shimada: I like this new you, brother


	2. And So It Begins

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘she ain’t leavin’?”

The ride back to Gibraltar may have been uneventful, but the arrival sure as hell wasn’t. When they got there, the girl was spirited away to the med bay and everyone else was close to following. They were all patched up when the meeting was called, and they’d expected a cross-examination of all of their reports, but now this.

“I mean, she’s not leaving. Overwatch is still technically an illegal operation, and turning over the only survivor of this last raid would uncover the whole thing. The last thing we need is getting on the bad side of the people before we get back on our feet.” Winston replies, shifting in place. 

“Yeah, I get that, but what I don't get is why we can't put her anywhere else. Ain’t there some witness protection-like program we can put her in?”

Winston shakes his head. “We can’t risk it. Trust me, I don't like the idea of keeping her here either, but there’s nothing else we can do.”

McCree’s lip curls over his teeth, “She ain’t safe here. We could go under attack at any moment, and you’re worried about our image?”

“McCree, I know where you’re coming from, but we can't send her out yet. It’d be more unsafe for her in the long run if everything about that raid comes out now, even if she gets to leave.” Winston responds, his hackles raised.

McCree goes to open his mouth, quick to retort before Hanzo cuts them off. “The girl stays, for the time being. As soon as we get the opportunity, we’ll find her someplace else, but right now, this is the best option.”

The room seems to shift with his words, all going quiet to mull over Hanzo’s comment.

“That was the plan,” Winston responds, looking to Hanzo. “But thank you for clearing it up. I never intended for any of you to think she’d be here forever.’

McCree huffs. “I s’pose that’s fine. As long as she leaves eventually.”

Hanzo goes to respond before a knock on the meeting room door cuts him off. Everyone snaps their attention to sound.

“Come in,” Winston says from across the room. The door cracks open, the bright lights from the hallway pouring into the dimness of the meeting room. Angela peeks her head through the door, a slightly frantic look on her face.

“McCree,” she breathes out, relieved. “I need you in the medbay.”

McCree shoves his chair out from under him, quickly standing. “What? What happened?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed.

Angela quickly takes note of his expression, schooling her own. “Everything's fine. She woke up, actually, but I can't understand her. I’m pretty sure she’s speaking Spanish, so…”

McCree lets out a breath and throws his hand over his heart. “Christ, angel, you almost gave me a heart attack.” He replies, pushing his chair back in and making his way to the door. “Which room’s she in?”

“406. Hanzo, if you’d come too, that’d be great.” She responds, turning and leaving the doorway, McCree following close behind.

Hanzo’s eyebrows rise in surprise. He hadn’t expected the invitation, and he sure as hell can't understand a lick of Spanish, so he’s not quite sure why he’s being invited. He looks to the others in the room.

“I’ll take my leave then.” He announces with a slight bow of his head. He starts to make his way to the door, following the retreating backs of his teammates. “Excuse me.”

He closes the door behind him and listens to the retreating voices of the people in the meeting room as he catches up to McCree and Angela.

-

Hanzo swears the girl is bigger than he remembers her. That may be because she was curled up into a dusty ball when he first saw her, but seeing her laid out across a crisp white hospital bed with no dirt on her face is definitely better. He resigns to think about this as their first real introduction - she wasn’t unconscious for this one.

However, Hanzo would like to reiterate that he has no idea why he’s here. 

She’s talking to McCree now in cuts of Spanish, nothing Hanzo can understand, but he can tell she’s opening up in her tone. Her eyes have stopped darting back and forth across the people in the room, and McCree has now taken up her full attention. He’s speaking softly, but kindly, but Hanzo would like to say one more time, he doesn’t understand anything that’s going on. He knows Angela understands some of it, based on her occasional responses, so the girl seems more comfortable with them here. Deep down, Hanzo’s glad she’s starting to feel safe, and he almost feels guilty for not being able to assist in that. He makes a mental note to ask McCree for lessons during one of their afternoon drinking sessions.

In Hanzo’s musings, he barely catches the girl's little hand reaching up to point at him, asking McCree something in Spanish. McCree chuckles with a smile and shakes his head.

“No, el no habla español, cariño.”

Hanzo got the ‘no’.

The little girl looks a little sad at that, looking to Hanzo and then back to McCree before falling back into their conversation. For a second, Hanzo wants to ask what they’re talking about, what about him specifically. But before he gets out a word, McCree stands from his kneel next to the girl's bed, turning to Hanzo and taking one of his wrists in his hand. The archer looks at him in surprise, caught off guard by the sudden touch; and for a second Hanzo’s lost in McCree’s gaze before his voice snaps him out of it.

“C’ mon, she wants to teach you somethin’.” He says, pulling Hanzo from his spot leaning against the wall. Hanzo looks at him with hesitation, momentarily pulling himself back to the wall. McCree chuckles at him. “Don’t look so put out, Han. She’s just gonna teach you ‘hello’.”

Hanzo supposes that’s simple enough, and stands up from the law, following McCree’s lead to the side of the bed. The girl is looking at him expectantly, and it makes a sweat spring out on the back of the archer's neck as he settles to a kneel. An awkward silence settles over them for a moment as the little girl stares at him. She sticks out her hands, making the universal grabby-motion, and the archer - unsure of what to give her, much less what she wants - slowly lifts both his hands towards hers. She grabs them quickly, flattening out her palm against one and dropping the other, angling Hanzo’s hand to do the same, so both of their hands are flat against the other. She wobbles her hand in a little wavy motion, weighed down by Hanzo’s hand because of his near-frozen posture.

Hanzo had expected her to squeak out a word, not grab his hands and handle them around - so the archer has no idea what to do. Did he mention that he doesn’t know how to handle children?

The little one blinks at him with a tiny smile. “¡Hola!”

Hanzo just stares back at her, unsure of what to do. The girl pouts, waving her hand against Hanzo’s a little more vigorously. “¡Ho-la!” She repeats, drawing out the vowels.

Hanzo blinks at his own slowness, embarrassed that he didn’t pick up the hint. “H-Hola.” He responds, tripping over the word. He botched the pronunciation, he can tell, but the little girl squeals and pulls her hand from his, clapping with glee. A hint of a smile shows on the archer’s face, and McCree softly claps beside him. A little warm spot finds itself nestled in his chest at McCree and the girl talking again, both talked animatedly in Spanish. 

He’s shocked at himself for a second, tamping down the little warm spot and blaming it on something else.

“Fondness” feels like too much, but he can't think of anything else.

-

Oddly enough, McCree all but vanished afterward. This not only leaves Hanzo to take care of the little one but also leaves him to contemplate the terrifying idea that whatever he feels for McCree might stem just a little past friendship. At first, Hanzo is vehemently against it - he has grown a good friendship with McCree, and he supposes the situation of seeing anyone playing with a child a third of their size would send anyone's heart a-flutter, so he decides to blame it on that. And now, as Hanzo contemplates it, the little girl is tugging at his pant leg while he makes himself some tea.

She’d been following him ever since McCree wandered off, which surprised Hanzo. Because first of all, the little girl adored McCree - and seemingly, he adored her right back - but as soon as she was let out to follow McCree around, she latched onto Hanzo’s leg and refused to let go, despite McCree beckoning her to follow him. Hanzo has no idea what he did to win the little one’s favor, and McCree’s reaction - a short laugh and a shrug, before leaving the room - had left him even further at a loss. So for the rest of the day so far, she’s been attached to Hanzo’s post-mission tracksuit pants (which is a ritual he will admit to no one, ever), and Hanzo has kept on as usual. She hasn’t complained, he thinks, based on the tone of her voice, and everywhere they went seemed to be something new and interesting instead of dangerous, much to Hanzo’s chagrin.

Don’t get him wrong - Hanzo is very glad she feels safe, but he is not glad that she wants to climb every surface in the base. Secretly Hanzo thinks himself a little bit of a hypocrite since he’d climbed everything as a child, but he was climbing things that were safe - not the sides of planes parked in a military base. He’s plucked her down from more places he can count after realizing she’d disappeared from his side, but she always giggled from glee when he scooped her up and plopped her back on the ground.

“¡Quiero intentarlo!”

Hanzo, despite his best efforts, still has no idea what the little girl is saying. He tried to learn a small amount, different greetings and simple questions, but he knows that he doesn’t have a good enough grasp on it to actually speak it out loud. Besides, nothing he's learned could carry a conversation.

The little girl repeats herself, pointing at his teacup and tugging at his pant leg again, harder this time. “¡Quiero intentarlo!”

Hanzo looks from the girl to his tea, desperately trying to decode whatever she’s saying to no avail. Hanzo doesn't know if responding would do him any good, because based on their interactions so far, she can't understand a lick of what he’s saying either. The archer looks down at her pleadingly, trying to communicate that he has no idea what she wants by shrugging. The little girl lets out a huff and whine, and despite not knowing what she’s saying or has said - ever - he can see the tell-tale signs of a tantrum coming on. And Hanzo is completely unprepared.

She starts to whine a little louder, stomping her feet in place as her face grows redder; and Hanzo has no idea what to do. And so, in his panic, he blindly reaches for his tea and hands it to her, assuming that maybe she wanted some. He really, really hopes that’s what she wants.

And thank every star in the sky, it was. Her face brightens as she grabs for the tea and takes a giant, terrifying gulp, all before Hanzo realizes that the tea is still hot. 

As in just-got-done-brewing hot.

Hanzo can handle it, the girl cannot.


	3. And So It Continues

Immediately, she drops the cup and her face scrunches up and a loud sharp wail climbs from her throat. And just as quickly, Hanzo is reminded of finding her in that little closet, practically feeling the dust he had sucked into his lungs before he snaps out of it and drops to his knees in front of her. He really has no idea what to do, so he awkwardly fumbles in front of her as she cries, the now-empty teacup dropping from her hand and falling to the floor.

In his panic, Hanzo fails to notice Genji shuffling into the room and dashing to their sides, crouching to the floor next to them and frantically looking back and forth between Hanzo and the girl.

“Brother, I leave you alone for three hours and you’ve already made her cry? What did you do?!” He asks, putting his hand on the back of the little girl and rubbing her little shoulders, the little one flinching at the sudden touch. Genji pulls his hand away. 

“I don’t- I didn’t make her cry! She wanted something, so I gave her my tea, and she just started drinking it!” Hanzo responds, feeling foolish in his own words. He’s a seasoned assassin, and yet he gives a little girl fresh-off-the-stove tea without a second thought because he panicked.

Genji lets out a sigh, “Only you, brother, I swear.” Genji picks up the cup she dropped, bringing it to the sink and filling it with water while Hanzo looks on helplessly, unable to comfort her.

Her crying hasn’t gotten any lesser, and she makes little grabby hands at Hanzo, shuffling towards him while tears drip down off of her chin. The archer shuffles towards her on his knees, lifting his hands to her again, worried that doing anything other than being around her will inevitably lead to disaster. She yanks his hands, pulling her own weight towards him, before wrapping her little arms around Hanzo and burying her face in his chest.

Genji turns around, his scarred face aghast, and Hanzo can't say he feels any different. Not thirty seconds ago Hanzo made her cry, and now here she is hugging him, clinging for dear life as if this is her last day on earth. Hanzo really doesn't understand children. Nonetheless, Hanzo wraps his arms around her gingerly, barely hugging her back, before awkwardly patting her back. Genji looks down at him with exasperation while Hanzo looks up at him, feeling more lost than he ever has in his life.

“Hanzo, I don’t know what you did, but she really likes you.”

Hanzo grumbles. “I don’t know what I did either.”

Genji chuckles, before crouching down next to them again, before gently tapping the little girl's shoulder as her cries die off. She peeks out from Hanzo’s chest, tears soaked into the front of his shirt, as Genji holds the cup out to her.

“¿Quieres un poco de agua?”

Does everyone on this base speak some Spanish except for him?

The little girl nods lightly, reaching out and taking the cup, peeling herself from Hanzo’s loose, awkward hug. She looks into the cup first (Hanzo guesses she’s checking that it’s not tea), before taking a gentle sip. A few sips later, Genji smiles at her, and puts his hand on her back, more gently this time. 

“¿Eso está mejor?”

The little girl nods, still frowning but no longer crying.

“Eso es bueno. ¿Tienes hambre?”

Hanzo watches on as the little girl's eyes light up, and she nods, no longer frowning. Genji stands, motioning the little girl to follow him, but the little girl still clutches to the front of Hanzo’s shirt. She looks back and forth between them, unsure of who to follow, and she looks at Hanzo pleadingly. Hanzo smiles at her, unsure of what to do, and nudges her towards his brother. The girl begins to step away, still unsure. Hanzo wishes he could give her words of encouragement, but he knows she won't be able to understand him; so he just looks at her and makes a soft shoo-ing motion. The girl looks back to Genji, and waddles up next to him, trying to find purchase on his leg.

“I will take care of her for a little while, aniki. You go rest and find McCree while you’re at it. I haven’t seen him since the debriefing.”

Hanzo nods curtly, expression fading back to his usual frown. “McCree’s gone?”

“Basically. He’s not anywhere he usually is, but Athena said he’s still on base.”

Hanzo nods again, looking down at the girl and back to Genji. “Thank you for watching her for a bit. I’ll be back soon.”

Genji smiles and waves his hand, shrugging Hanzo off. “Don’t worry about it. Lord knows you can’t handle her for long.”

Hanzo opens his mouth to retort, but Genji has already turned around and is leading the girl to a table in the corner of the dining area. His mouth shuts with a click, and the archer huffs quietly before turning to leave the room. Hanzo knows exactly where to look for McCree, and he’s no doubt there with a cigarillo and whatever alcohol he had on hand because that’s what usually happens when no one can find him. No one but me, Hanzo thinks to himself, a small flare of pride in his chest.

He’s not quite sure why he’s prideful about it, but it’s better not to dwell on it. That warm spot in his chest is back again, and the archer recoils at his own thoughts to make it go away. Hanzo is starting to think he has a problem, and he knows exactly what it is, but he is extremely exposed to connecting the dots. Feeling that way about anyone is bound to end up painful for both parties, the opposing party remaining unnamed, and Hanzo sighs to himself. It's not exactly something Hanzo is super broken up about - he’s made a sort of peace with himself that anything more than friendship with anyone is not something he’s going to ever get - so he continues his even strides. That decision was made a long time ago, and he’ll be damned if that changes for a cowboy. Much less one who probably doesn’t feel anything in return.

-

Like Hanzo thought, McCree is perched in their spot on the far side of the base (Hanzo is dreadful to think of how long he’s thought about that spot as theirs), but unlike Hanzo thought, he’s not perched with a drink, and the archer hasn’t spotted a single plume of smoke. 

Hanzo wraps his knuckles lightly on the wall, and McCree jumps slightly in his seated position. Hanzo has never seen McCree so zoned out he doesn’t notice someone approaching, so something really is wrong. 

“Jesus, darlin’, give a man a warning.” McCree quips with a deep chuckle, settling back into his slump against the wall. “Swear we need’ a put a bell on you.” He adds in a mumble.

Hanzo lets himself huff. “I’d say you need a bell more than me. Genji has been looking for you.”

McCree chuckles. “We chose a nice li’l spot for ourselves, then, if he ain’t found me yet.”

Hanzo hums, and settles next to McCree, before resting his head against the wall. “I suppose we have, then.” The archer can't deny the small rush of hope he feels in McCree referring to the spot as theirs as well.

A silence falls on them, and McCree’s face settles from his lazy smile. Hanzo is pretty sure this spot is the only place that McCree ever lets his smile fall, and Hanzo is glad that the cowboy can relax in his presence, and he forces himself to let that be enough. McCree’s eyes are distant, though, and that’s what makes Hanzo worry. As much as they talk, they never really go into territory that makes either of their eyes glaze over like McCree’s are now. The vague details of each-others profiles were enough, and Hanzo had read McCree’s before he joined Overwatch; while McCree heard everything there was to know about Hanzo from Genji when they were in Blackwatch. Yet another reason that Hanzo is sure this… infatuation, is one-sided.

So Hanzo feels as out-of-his-element as he has so far, today.

McCree sighs, taking the hat from his head and laying it on his lap. Hanzo tenses, bracing for whatever McCree is about to say. “You ever think about leavin’?”

Hanzo’s brows furrow. “Leaving?”

“Y’know, retirin’. Quittin’ this whole thing.” McCree clarifies, scratching a hand on his chest. A nervous tick Hanzo has picked up on since he’s known McCree.

Hanzo hums in thought. “No.”

McCree falls silent and looks to his hat resting in his lap. “Oh.”

Somehow, Hanzo feels like he’s stepped on his own toes, so he tries to reconcile. “I don’t see myself anywhere else. Peacefully, at least.”

McCree snorts. “That sounds like somethin’ you’d say.” He responds, thumping his head back against the wall. “Don’t see yourself with a family or nothin’?”

Hanzo chuckles. “Not much time for that. And it’s more like I can't see myself in a retirement home.”

McCree chuckles dryly, and he fiddles with the brim of his hat. “I hear that.” He responds, scratching across his chest again. “But sometimes it’s like… it’s just - I don’t want this,” he says, gesturing to the base, “to be… it, for me.”

Hanzo hums again, unsure of how to respond, and again it feels like he’s stepping on his own toes.

“I don’t know, don't mind me. ‘S probably silly.” McCree continues, waving himself off. He seems tenser than before, and Hanzo scolds himself.

Reassurance - that’s what he’s looking for. 

“I cannot say I’ve thought about it much, but… I think I understand.” The archer responds, suddenly feeling a little bit too exposed. A little too raw, for his tastes, and he forces himself to keep going. “But I know that I will not stay here forever. What comes after does not concern me, for now.” Hanzo smirks. “Soldier76 is old, but I think he is a special case.”

The cowboy chuckles again, low and soft, and sighs. “Yeah, I s’pose so,” he responds, and Hanzo smiles to himself, glad to see McCree relax again. He feels his heart flare at being the one responsible.

“What brought this on? If you don’t mind.” Hanzo asks, tracing the inside of his wrist with his thumb.

“Sorta just bared my soul to you, darlin’, I don’t mind.” The cowboy responds, tone turning somber as he continues. “‘S the little one.”

Hanzo suspected as much - McCree never disappears without cause. Hanzo hums, prompting McCree to continue. 

“Her whole family’s gone, Hanzo.” He starts, “I know what that’s like, and when I was small like her that’s about all I wanted. I’ve seen people come-and-go through operations like ours and based on that, she’s goin’ to the foster care system.”

“It’s not good, then?”

“Hell no. It’s overstuffed right now as it is, and as I get older, I feel like... “ He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I feel like I could help people better without the guts ‘n’ gore.”

Hanzo winces at the crude wording, but nods. “I see.”

“Don’t you ever feel that? Like you could’ve done somethin’ better if you hadn’t done what you did?”

Hanzo assumes McCree is talking about joining Deadlock. “You know what I’ve done. Of course, I do.” He responds with a slight twist of venom in his response. Hanzo had killed his brother in cold blood, and there is not a day that he hasn’t regretted it.

McCree huffs. “... sorry. I know.”

The space between them falls silent again, static buzzing in the air. Hanzo sighs, rubbing up and down his bare forearm. “So? What would you do, if you weren’t here now?”

McCree smiles to himself, scratching across his chest again. “That’s it, ain’t it? What would I do?”

There’s something somber in his tone that makes the hairs on Hanzo’s neck stand up. He grapples for something to change the direction of the conversation.

“The little one has been following me since you disappeared.”

McCree grimaces. “Damn, sorry ‘bout that. Awful selfish of me, huh?”

Hanzo shakes his head. “Not at all. But I would’ve appreciated some help.”  
McCree jolts, sitting up and swinging his hat back onto his head. “Wait, if you’re here, where is she? Hanzo, don’t tell me you up and left her somewhe-”

Hanzo cuts him. “Of course not! She is with my brother, you fool. I’m inept, not an idiot.” Hanzo grimaces to himself, hating admitting it out loud, and he feels like telling McCree about the tea would just make him a bigger target. Quit while you’re ahead, fool.

“Well, I’ll be, Hanzo Shimada, admitting defeat. And here I thought you were some savant,”

“Quiet, cowboy, I admit nothing.”


	4. That's a little sus Hanzo

The talk they had did seem to help. McCree stopped sneaking around - at least that's what Hanzo thinks he was doing - and the rest of the night had gone fairly smoothly. With Genji watching the little one for a while, Hanzo had attempted to re-establish normalcy by inviting McCree for a drink again. The man agreed almost immediately, mentioning something about needing a drink after a conversation like that, and Hanzo was thankful for the man’s company.

Honestly, the conversation has got him thinking about the what-ifs a lot more than he’d like to admit. He likes to think of himself as a man who lives in the now, but he knows he’s somewhat of a worry-wart, and McCree knows it too. As they sip at their respective drinks (McCree with whiskey, and Hanzo with plum wine), McCree teases him about it. Hanzo has come to find out that the man is somewhat of a loose-lipped giggly drunk, and Hanzo can tell the alcohol is starting to get to the cowboy.

“Ya’ll always worryin’ ‘bout somethin’. But, like…” McCree gestures vaguely. “Things ‘r’ good righ’ now.”

The man also becomes nonsensical, and his accent becomes horribly thick - and at this point, Hanzo can barely understand him. Hanzo knows to drink lightly, tonight, because he knows himself too well to get tipsy when he knows he has to think. And Hanzo has a lot to think about later. But for now he just reminisces about the fact that right now, Hanzo is under the horrible realization that he thinks the cowboy is not only a loose-lipped, giggly, nonsensical drunk - but a very cute drunk.

Hanzo takes a swig of his plum wine, going against his own advice.

“My worry is never unfounded,cowboy. Weren’t we just discussing your worries anyway?”

McCree waves him off. “You hush, now, I ‘on’t wanna go back to thinkin’ ‘bout it. ‘Sides, my worry makes sense. You always worryin’ ‘bout silly stuff.”

Hanzo scoffs. “‘Silly stuff’ has kept us alive, cowboy. Remind me how many times I’ve saved you?”

McCree sticks his tongue out. Hanzo feels his heart skip.

“I’ve saved you before. ‘S just never in the field.”

McCree isn’t lying. Hanzo has had a few… less than ideal nights, on base. It’s never gotten to any serious levels, just moments where Hanzo shouldn’t be left to his devices until he trained himself to death. Night terrors are not uncommon for the archer, and once he wakes from them, he stays awake. McCree is usually up too, and usually for the same reason, so they keep eachother company with light conversation. Hanzo is surprised to see McCree talk figuratively right now given how buzzed he is.

“Maybe so.”

The conversation lulls as they sit next to each-other. They’ve each taken up an opposite side of the couch in one of the lounge rooms while they drink, and Hanzo can see the sun begin to dip below the horizon through one of the windows behind McCree. The comfortable silence between them is not new, and a lot of their nights are spent like this, but only now does Hanzo pay attention to the haloed sun around the cowboys profile, hat gone to the armrest and a look of content on his face. The warm spot in Hanzo’s chest grows as if spread through his lungs, making his breathing grow slightly ragged as what he feels really begins to set in.

McCree had been there through everything. When Hanzo first joined he was there to welcome him with everyone else. At first, they didn’t get along too well, and the two found more in common through rivalry than actually talking to each other, but it turned out to be the perfect starting point. Eventually, they bumped into one another post-nightmare, which finally got them conversing instead of throwing playful jabs back and forth across the training room, and those nights eventually grew into the little meet-ups they have now, and Hanzo almost thinks himself a fool for not noticing the soft spot the cowboy had dug into his heart.

Because intentionally or not, the man's companionship really had saved Hanzo before. And for a second, as McCree stares back at him, Hanzo considers blurting it out. 

He knows better, though, and curbs his tongue. 

Hanzo stands from the couch, brushing imaginary dust off his pants, and offers a hand to McCree. “Come. I believe it’s best we settle down for the night.”

Hanzo see’s something pass across McCree’s features, before the cowboy accepts his hand to haul himself up. He staggers, seemingly unaware of how drunk he’s become, and Hanzo hooks the cowboys arm around his shoulders for support. The cowboy smirks.

“You’re room ‘r’ mine?”

Hanzo scoffs despite the furious blush that he feels creep up his neck. He knows the cowboy is playing around, but it never ceases to get the same reaction.

“Cease.”

As Hanzo leads the stumbling man down the hallway towards his room, a tiny little voice in the back of his head starts to nag at him. He starts to slow his pace, frowning to himself. Why does it feel like he’s forgetting something? He looks to McCree and back the way they came, before letting out a long groan. 

“McCree.”

“Hm?”

“We forgot your hat.”

McCree sluggishly brings his hand to the top of his head before huffing. “So we have.”

“Do you want to go back?”

McCree sighs, slumping more of his weight into Hanzo’s side. “I want my hat... but I don’ wanna turn around. I can barely stand as it is,” He replies, cementing his statement with a yawn.

Hanzo privately chuckles to himself. “I will go back for it, then. You lie against the wall.” He responds, shuffling towards the wall and lowering McCree to sit on the ground.

McCree brings his hand to mock tipping his hat. “Thank you kindly.”

Hanzo shakes his head, walking back to the lounge and picking McCree’s hat off of the arm rest, before heading back to the hall.

“McCree, I got your hat.” Hanzo says into the hallway, spotting McCree slumped against the wall. At the lack of response, Hanzo’s heart jumps for a second before getting closer. Hanzo’s ears pick up a soft, steady snoring before he realizes that McCree is out cold. 

Hanzo smiles to himself as he approaches, hat in hand, and crouches in front of McCree. Hanzo couldn't ignore the soft spot in his heart if he tried, and observing his friend's peaceful face makes it all the more difficult. Hanzo can feel his face go soft, and in the empty quietness of the hallway, for a second he allows himself a moment to ponder. He brings his hand up - slowly, very slowly - before he lets the back of his hand feel the scruff on McCree’s face.

He knows full well he could blame it on the alcohol if the man wakes up, but even he can tell he hasn’t had nearly enough to get touchy. As embarrassing as it is, he does get cuddly when he’s black-out drunk. He sighs to himself in relief as his friend sleeps on, not a care in the world. And as the silence stretches on, Hanzo lets his hand linger there, allowing this moment of respite before he has to haul his friend back to his room and hopefully forget this ever happened.

Or he would, if he hadn’t spotted his brother turning into the hallway, the little girl from before holding his hand. Hanzo’s eyes snap to his brother, mortifyingly wide, before bringing a hand to his lips in a hush motion. He can practically feel Genji’s shit-eating grin behind his mask as he stands at the end of the hall, while Hanzo hurriedly throws McCree’s limp arm back over his shoulder and hauls him up from the ground. The cowboy continues to sleep, seemingly unperturbed. 

As Hanzo walks closer to Genji, he can hear him trying to muffle his snickering, and he shoots him the most intense death glare he can manage. Genji’s soft snickering only grows a little bit louder, immune to his brother. 

“Not a word.” Hanzo hisses, looking to his brother before looking to the girl holding his hand. She looks dumbfounded, simply staring up at the both of them with an open mouth and wide eyes. For some reason, Hanzo feels like that’s more embarrassing than his brother finding them. If even a child could tell, Hanzo really had to reel it in.

Speaking of the child. “Why is she still up?”

Genji stops snickering and looks down to her and shrugs. “She just kept following me. And I intend to be the cool uncle, so I let her.”

Hanzo sighs. “I am not her father, first of all, and second of all I don't care how cool you’re trying to be. She should be asleep.” He scolds, looking back to Genji. “Take McCree to his room. I will take the girl.”

Genji chuckles again as Hanzo hands McCree off. “Why? Afraid of what will happen if we leave you two alone?”

Hanzo scoffs, taking the little girl's hand. “Do not be vulgar. I know you’ll just stay up longer with her if I leave her in your care.” He responds. 

“Aren’t you drunk? Isn’t leaving her with you a worse idea?”

“I may have had a drink, but at least I know to put a child to sleep before nine.”

Genji shrugs. “Whatever you say. Goodnight, Hanzo.”

“Goodnight, Genji.” 

Genji turns to start his walk towards McCree’s room, before Hanzo stops him again. “Genji.”

He stops, turning his head to his brother.

“Please. Do not tell him.” 

Genji quirks his head, and though Hanzo can’t see it, he can tell he’s smiling. “Truly, I don’t think you have much to worry about. But I won't.”

Hanzo presses his mouth into a thin line before sighing. “Thank you.”

As his brother hobbles away, a very drunk cowboy slung around his shoulder, Hanzo looks down to the little girl holding his hand. He smiles at her, despite her still gawking at him, before a realization hits him: where is she supposed to sleep?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw i have a twitter where i post art and whenever updates happen so -- @loserwagon (i also posted a little sketch from this chapter ;)


	5. McCree... bro...

Hanzo stutters in the hallway, frozen with the little girl still holding his hand. There are no spare cots near his, so he can't keep an eye on her if he leaves her in one of those. And Jesse is way too drunk and passed out to take her, and there’s no way Hanzo is leaving her with Genji again.

He looks down at her as she yawns, still gripping his hand. Sighing, he resigns himself.

Hanzo leads her down the hallway to his room, willing of his buzzed stumbling for the sake of pride, before the girl stops in her tracks. Hanzo halts and looks at her as she gives him grabby hands. He glances up and down the hallway before picking her up, surprised at how light she is, before he arranges her arms around the back of his neck and his hand linked to support her. He prays no one else is up at this hour to see this, though he secretly enjoys the limp-armed hug. The archer turns and continues to his room, cradling the girl in his arms all the way.

He reaches his room, thankful the sliding doors are quiet when they open and close, before gently laying the little one down in the middle of his bed after pulling back the covers. He’s not sure when she fell asleep completely, but he’s glad she has. After gently removing her shoes from her feet and placing them next to his bed, he pulls his hair tie from his head and sits on the bed to unclip his prosthetics and lie down himself. The little girl shifts in her sleep and Hanzo’s weight settles on the bed and he smiles to himself, removing his last prosthetic and lying down. He feels the little girls back on his as he relaxes, and sleep comes easy under the buzz of plum wine.

-

Waking up is always a groggy feeling. In all reality, Hanzo shouldn’t be waking up right now. It’s dark out, and the little girl is still fast asleep, seemingly exhausted from the day. Hanzo looks over to his alarm clock, which reads 6:30AM, and sits up in his bed. Normally Hanzo would get up and go train, and he has to remind himself that things are different right now - he can’t just leave her here. But Hanzo also knows he won’t be able to fall back asleep, so scoots back to rest against the wall.

Hanzo lets his mind wander, pondering the day he’d had. All wrapped up in thoughts of McCree, trying to handle a newly orphaned child with an unexplainable attachment to him, and dealing with whatever revelations came from both.

Hanzo never thought he could be in love. He decides it’s best described as ‘horrifying’.

Mostly because all Hanzo knows about romance is the fact that there’s usually a set pattern. Interest turns to fondness, turns to yearning turns to love. The archer is horrified to find that he can pinpoint when he reached each stage and is embarrassed to admit he hadn’t really noticed himself before crash-landing onto a feeling that feels bigger than he can handle. Bigger than any kid that had the ability to drive him up the wall and then whip-lash him back into worrying about them.

Ironically enough, the child seems to notice how he feels more than he does, based on the wide-eyed stare he’d gotten in the hallway.

He glances at the clock again. 6:34AM. It’s going to be a long morning.

-

Turns out waking up with a toddler is a lot less hard than Hanzo thought. She’s definitely cranky, but her exhaustion outweighs that when it comes to making her get ready for the day. Despite Hanzo fixing her hair for her and smoothing out her clothing, she still insists on using his mirror in the tiny bathroom connected to his cot. Of course, she’s too short for it so Hanzo heaves her up to sit on the edge of the sink. She goes about messing up whatever Hanzo had done to her hair, fluffing out her baby hairs from the two braid Hanzo had crafted, while the archer goes through combing his hair and putting it up in a nice clean ponytail. He gives up on trying to fix her hair back to the way it was - the little girl seems very happy with her handiwork. 

Hanzo is still wearing his clothes from yesterday, seeing as he won't just change in front of the child, so he takes her out to the mess hall in hopes of breakfast and for someone to watch over her for a few minutes while he gets into a fresh kyudo gi. He still has some pride after all this, and he intends on holding on to it by at least being presentable to his peers. When they reach the mess hall, the tired toddler perched on his hip as he carries her, he spots a very hungover McCree nursing a cup of coffee while rubbing his temples. The cowboy looks up from the mug and gives the pair a weak smile and wave.

“G’mornin’, Hanzo.” He says, his voice thick with sleep.

Hanzo nods towards him with a smile. McCree looks from him to the half-asleep little girl. "Y buenos días a ti también, señorita."

The girl in Hanzo’s arms shifts to look at him before her eyes light up, and she smiles. “¡Vaquero!”

McCree chuckles. “She calls me 'cowboy'. How cute is that?”

Hanzo chuckles. “It’s very fitting.”

The girl pushes from Hanzo’s arms towards McCree, clearly wanting to trade over to him. McCree holds his arms out, clearly exhausted but very willing, and Hanzo gently passes her over. “¿Cómo estás esta mañana?”

“Bueno. Me hizo el pelo por mí.” She replies, pointing to Hanzo. He tenses at the sudden attention as McCree looks up at him with a coy smile.

“¿Lo hizo ahora?”

“Sí.”

McCree smiles at her and pokes her belly, making her giggle. “¿Dijiste gracias?”

The little girl shakes her head no, shyly. McCree tuts. “Adelante entonces.”

The girl turns from McCree to Hanzo, now sitting on his lap instead of held in his arms. She looks at him, twiddling her thumbs. “Gracias.”

From what Hanzo had gathered from his quick searches on how to speak Spanish, he understands that means ‘thank you’. What she’s thanking him for, though, he has no idea. Luckily, McCree comes to his rescue.

“She’s thanking you for doing your hair.” He whispers.

Hanzo’s eyebrows rise slightly. He racks his brain for the proper response, trying to remember what ‘you’re welcome’ was with every fiber of his being. It snaps in right as McCree begins to mouth the words.

“¡De nada!”

It comes out too loud, too sharp for Hanzo’s tastes, but it sends the girl and McCree smiling all the same. And if nothing else, he got those smiles. Seeing them makes that warm feeling in his chest flare up again, dangerously bright, and Hanzo can't help smiling himself.

“Look at you, speakin’ Spanish. Good on ya, Han.” McCree smiles.

Hanzo chuckles. “I did not have much of a choice.”

McCree gives Hanzo a look he’s never seen before - something soft and warm lies in his gaze, and for once, Hanzo lets himself savor it by smiling back at him. 

“Thank you,” McCree says, the look on his face growing fonder.

That’s the word for this look - fond.

Oh.

_Oh._

Hanzo feels very dumb. 

McCree seems to realize himself, realize the look he’s let loose, and he schools his expression. He was too slow, though, and it’s definitely gonna be something Hanzo will tease him about. (This, despite the fact that Hanzo just realized his feelings himself not an hour ago.)

“Will you watch her for a moment? I must go change.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sure, go ahead.” McCree responds. He can probably tell that Hanzo had caught his look.

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's short ;-; Hope u enjoy! Comments are appreciated :***


	6. Oh

Hanzo barely makes it back to his room before his knees buckle. The archer's light-headedness about this new revelation sent his nerves into a frenzy, barely keeping his composure before he excused himself to change. He thanks whatever higher power might be up there for the convenient getaway. He takes a deep breath, leaning his back against the inside of his door to keep himself upright. But, honestly - what was he supposed to do with this information? Just going up and confronting McCree about their potential mutual attraction sounded like a terrible idea.

He picks himself up off the door, striding to his dresser and flinging a drawer open, deep in thought. His cheeks burn at the thought of actually having to talk about it with the other man, but he’s more embarrassed at the thought that he’s in his thirties, and is still losing it over this like some kind of teenager. He pulls out a fresh kyudo gi and groans into the fabric, before placing it aside and shucking off his own with one arm, and using his other arm to look for pants. 

Hanzo is almost sure that McCree feels the same way, thinking back on it - all the flirting and the touching might have been just a little more than a close friendship, and he feels like a fool for not noticing it sooner. Their drinking nights were practically date nights for them, and he knew more about the cowboy’s childhood than he remembers of his own.

But the question remains - how does he bring it up?

On one hand, he could approach this like he approaches almost everything else: tactfully and gracefully. But something inside of him is convinced he’d fuck that up if he tried. Tact and grace is meant for killing or carrying out a mission, not… whatever he was supposed to do with McCree. Almost fully dressed, Hanzo walks to his bathroom to check that replacing his kyudo-gi hasn’t mussied up his ponytail. 

He freezes at the stupidly sweet look on his face while he thinks of his friend. God, he’s really in deep, huh?

Hanzo rubs his hands across his face to get rid of the smile, before tightening his ponytail in an attempt to strengthen his resolve. They’re both adults, right? He can do this.

Any and all semblance of that resolve is stripped away as soon as he walks into the mess hall again. McCree is bouncing the girl up and down on his knee, stupidly sweet, while singing some kind of play-song to her. Hanzo can feel his heart squeeze in his chest at the sight, the little girl laughing away while McCree smiles at her, and he sighs at his own weakness to them.

Him. McCree, not the girl. She’s going to leave soon - Hanzo can't risk getting attached.

McCree looks up from their game, and beckons Hanzo over. He follows his lead, incapable of saying ‘no’.

“Liliana here says you took care o’ her last night, after I got dragged away by Genji.”

Hanzo’s ears perk up at the name. “Liliana?”

“Little bit, here.” McCree bounces the girl on his knee for emphasis. So that’s her name - Hanzo honestly didn’t realize he’d never made an attempt to ask for it.

“Oh.”

“Thank you for that, too. I must’ve been out cold, huh?” McCree replies, with a good-natured smile.

Hanzo hopes to whatever higher power there might be that McCree was. “Yes, actually. You fell asleep in the hallway.” Hanzo flushes a soft red at the memory, and his own traitorous hand.

“Damn, sorry.”

Hanzo thwaps the man on his arm. “Do not curse. There is a child here.”

“What,” McCree chuckles, “She can’t even understand me.” 

Hanzo huffs, smiling. “Children repeat what they hear, you know.”

The little girl - now Liliana - giggles at their squabble, despite not being able to understand. Hanzo supposes that the idea that children understand energy has some truth to it. In-between all the innocent giggling, Hanzo hears a word.

“Damn.”

Hanzo knows for a fact that’s not McCree’s voice. The man flushes red, shushing Liliana with a finger over his lips while shaking his head. Liliana simply giggles at him, saying the word again. McCree looks from her to Hanzo, embarrassment written all over his face, clearly looking for help. Hanzo cocks an eyebrow at him and smirks, unyielding.

“Told you.”

McCree groans and looks back at Liliana, frantically speaking spanish, probably trying to explain to her that she can't say that. Hanzo chuckles to himself at the scene, before he hears a cough from behind him. Both he and McCree look towards the noise to find Genji, who gives them a slight wave.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I needed to speak with you two.”

McCree cocks an eyebrow and goes back to lightly bouncing Liliana. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“There’s going to be a meeting about what’s going to happen with the little one today after lunch. Winston asked me to tell you two to go.”

Hanzo’s eyebrows rise slightly. “So soon? I thought she’d be here for a few days.”

Genji shrugs. “I did too, honestly, but this is probably a good thing, yeah?”

“Yes,” Hanzo responds, despite the dark spot blotting out the warmth in the pit of his stomach. “I suppose it is.”

Hanzo glances back at McCree and Liliana, and despite the man's smile, he can tell he’s upset. His posture is tense, and he’s stopped bouncing Liliana on his knee, which has clearly upset her - she’s patting McCree with increasing agitation, and his lack of response only proves Hanzo is right. McCree is not happy about this.

“McCree? You’re coming, right?” Genji asks.

That snaps McCree out of his daze, going back to bouncing Liliana again, who is delighted by the change. McCree nods. “Yeah, yeah. Sounds good.”

“Okay, well, I’ll see you two there. By the way, I need to borrow the little one for a bit. We need to do some identity confirmation on her, and I’m sure you two could use a babysitting break.” Genji replies, walking past Hanzo and crouching in front of Liliana, who is still perched on McCree’s knee. “Hola pequeño. ¿Me prestas un momento?”

McCree looks positively pained at the thought of her leaving right after he got to see her again, but before Hanzo can stop Genji - or stall him, at least - he swoops her up in his arms and perches her on his hip.

“I’ll catch you guys after lunch, then.” He says, and quickly strides out of the lunchroom. Hanzo and McCree watch her go, both suffering from the whiplash of Genji’s quick entrance and exit, and the sudden loss of a certain brunette. Before Hanzo can say anything, McCree takes a heavy swig of his coffee and stands, turning to put the cup in the sink.

“Welp,” He starts, rinsing out his cup while Hanzo awkwardly follows behind, “I s’pose I’ll see you then too. I’ve got, uh…” McCree puts his cup in one of the dish racks, “Stuff, to do.” 

Hanzo knows for a fact that's a cold, hard lie. Neither of them have a mission today, and McCree trains after lunch, and if he’s not doing anything else, he’s with Hanzo.

Geez. Hanzo feels dumb for not recognizing the attraction before. He pushes the thought aside for later - McCree is upset.

“Jesse.” 

McCree turns around at the use of his first name.”Yeah?”

Hanzo sighs. “Come with me, for a moment. If you’re not busy.”

McCree huffs, knowing that Hanzo isn’t actually going to let him go. “Sure. I guess I got time.”


	7. Oop-

They decided to settle in their usual spot - the same place they’d been drinking last night. Walking back through the hallway where the… incident occurred made Hanzo’s neck flush red, but McCree didn't seem to notice. 

Hanzo sits first and pats the spot next to him, inviting McCree to sit. The man shuffles over, almost shy, and flops into the seat with a weary sigh. He chuckles as he leans his head against the back of the couch, and he looks at Hanzo.

“This gonna be one o’ those soul-bearing conversations again? ‘Cus I ain’t sure I can handle another one so soon.”

Hanzo chuckles softly and shakes his head. “It does not have to be.”

“Oh,” McCree replies, bringing an arm up to scratch at his chest. “Well, what’re we here for then?”

Hanzo sighs. “You seem… troubled, lately. I suppose I thought a talk would help, but if you wish, we could sit here in silence.” Anything to make him feel better.

McCree looks to Hanzo with a lazy smile, the sort of weariness in his eyes that’s only found from a restless mind, and he throws his arm across the back of the couch. It makes the hairs on the back of Hanzo’s neck stand on end. 

“That’s sweet o’ you, Hanzo,” McCree says in that sweet southern drawl. “Thank you.”

Hanzo can only manage a smile back at the man, for fear that if he said something, he would stutter.

McCree sighs heavily. “I guess I’ve just been out of sorts. The little one’s definitely part of it, but…”

“There’s something else?” Hanzo asks, unable to stamp the hope in his chest.

The other man lets out a sad chuckle. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Hanzo decides to take a leap of faith, despite his best interest. “You and I may have a similar problem, then.”

McCree quirks an eyebrow at Hanzo and he turns to him on the couch. Hanzo desperately hopes that he isn't wrong on this - and that, if he should get something right in his personal life, it will be this.

“Oh yeah?” McCree asks, his mouth pulling into a smirk ever so slightly. Hanzo hums in agreement, looking at McCree from the corner of his eye. “Don’t suppose it’s got something to do with lil’ ol’ me, huh?”

Hanzo chuckles. “Perhaps.”

McCree leans into Hanzo’s personal space, just a little too close for comfort. Someone else’s comfort, that is - Hanzo is quite unbothered.

“‘Perhaps’, huh?”

Hanzo can only hum in agreement, once again fearful of saying something foolish should he open his mouth.

McCree’s playful smirk drops to a serious look before he starts to talk again, in a more hushed tone. “Hanzo?”

The archer finally turns his head towards McCree, to which his heart back-flips at how close the man had gotten. He manages to whisper back. “Yes?”

“Is this okay?” The man asks, scooting the rest of his body closer, now sitting thigh-to-thigh. He leans in slightly closer, and Hanzo - in a moment of weakness - blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind.

“You have no idea.”

Hanzo is only a little disappointed when McCree simply lays his head on Hanzo’s shoulder. Hanzo, unused to the physical contact, freezes for a second, before wrapping his arms around the cowboys back. The hug is vividly soft and warm, no doubt one of the best - if only - real hugs he’s ever gotten. He smells like cedarwood and tobacco smoke, and Hanzo can feel each hair on McCree’s face scratching against him. Needless to say, it’s absolute bliss.

McCree lets out a deep sigh and brings his arms to wrap around Hanzo.

Hanzo takes it back. This is absolute _heaven. ___

____

__

-

Lunch comes too fast for either of their comforts. They haven’t really talked about what happened in literal terms, both too touchy to put a label on anything right now; but they spent the rest of the morning close to each other - quiet conversations and light touches laced throughout. Hanzo can't remember the last time he felt this comfortable in his own skin and his heart still skips every time McCree looks at him, but the archer feels a great weight lifted off now that he doesn’t have to pretend not to like it. Now every soft smile can be returned in kind, and the warmth in his chest finally has a place to grow now that he knows he can let it.

But lunch still came, and what came after is still there to be dreaded.

Hanzo is surprised with himself at how attached to the girl he’d become in the span of a day and a half. He supposes the domesticity of it all after the danger might have assisted in his affections, but at this point, it doesn’t really matter. He’s attached to the little brown baby hairs and the ridiculously adorable attempts at fixing her hair after Hanzo had done it up, and he can already feel the heartbreak of her disappearance.

Now, McCree and Hanzo stand side-by-side in the mess hall, preparing to get lunch. McCree is working on some ridiculously thick sandwich while Hanzo decides on what he wants to eat. McCree offers up half of his sandwich, claiming that it’s too much for him anyway. Hanzo knows that’s a bold-faced lie - McCree has a famously bottomless stomach, but it’s not like he’s gonna turn the man down. They end up sitting down at the same table from breakfast, each eating their respective halves.

It’s surprisingly good, and Hanzo jots that into his memory.

“So,” McCree starts, mouth still full. “How ‘re you feelin’?”

Hanzo somewhat recoils at McCree talking with his mouth full. The archer swallows what he had in his mouth, almost making a show of it. “About what?”  
McCree swallows his food, putting down the rest of his sandwich. “You know, about the meetin’.”

“Ah, yes.” Hanzo sighs inwardly. He’d hoped they wouldn’t talk about it, or at least not about what Hanzo was feeling. He’s better at listening to other people’s feelings than actually articulating his own. “That.”

McCree reclines in the squeaky mess hall chair. “Well?”

“If I had to say,” Hanzo responds, his eyebrows pinched, “I’m not excited.”

“Yeah, that’s about how I’m feelin’ too.”

“You’ve grown attached?”

McCree scoffs. “‘Course I have.” He responds, “She’s the little bit o’ normalcy I’ve seen in a hot minute.”

“I understand,” Hanzo responds. McCree cocks an eyebrow at him.

“You too?”

Hanzo blinks and gives the cowboy a quizzical look. “What?”

“You got attached too, huh?”

Hanzo has no idea how McCree deduced that from this conversation. “I suppose.”

“Don't you ‘I suppose’ me, Han. I know that look.”

The archer didn't know he had a ‘look’ on his face. Nonetheless, he concedes. “Yes, then. I enjoyed the company.”

“She looked right happy, stayin’ with you. Guess her good spirit rubbed off a lil’ on both of us.” McCree responds with a chuckle before his eyebrows fall to something melancholy. “I know I wasn’t there, much, but… I’m gonna miss her.”

Hanzo sighs. “And I as well.”

McCree smiles up and Hanzo. “I bet she’ll miss you just as much, sweetheart.”

“No,” Hanzo responds, “it has only been a day.”

“It’s only been a day for us too.”

Hanzo chuckles. “That’s true.”


End file.
